


Magic Chains

by tymedfire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Merlin, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, merlin can't live without magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tymedfire/pseuds/tymedfire
Summary: Merlin, by definition, is clumsy, ever-present, and always moving. He should never be as still as he is now.





	Magic Chains

The shackles click shut over Merlin’s wrists with a resounding  _ clang _ . As soon as they shut they begin glowing bright gold and Merlin lets out a hiss of pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Arthur is shocked to see that, when Merlin opens his eyes, they are a molten shade of gold, exactly like the shackles.

Exactly like a sorcerer's eyes. 

Arthur, Merlin, and his Knights are in a dungeon of some kind, though Arthur has no idea where or whose. They’d been captured by bandits.  _ Bandits _ , and not even particularly good ones. Everything had seemed to go wrong the second the bandits jumped out of the forest and descended on their camp. Percival had tripped, taking out two bandits with his massive body, but hurting his ankle in the process. A tree branch had fallen on another bandit, which caused him to fall into their fire and spray the embers onto Leon, who had jumped and run into the passing Elyan. Gwaine had done pretty well until he tried to disarm one bandit and somehow ended up disarming himself. 

It was all Merlin’s fault, he just knew it. He’d infected them all with his clumsiness. 

When Arthur had finally been able to look for said servant after watching in disbelief as his so-called knights all failed  _ spectacularly _ , he found him unconscious on the ground.

Figures.

And really, Arthur is good, he’s great, but he can’t do  _ everything _ himself, so he surrendered. 

Now here they are, all being shackled to the wall of a musky dungeon and Merlin-

Merlin’s eyes are glowing. They’re glowing and his expression is one of pain and fear and guilt, but mostly-

And then his expression is gone. Arthur can hear his Knights calling out as Merlin’s expression goes blank and his eyes glow brighter. The servant-- _ sorcerer _ \--sucks in a sharp breath and slowly slumps against the wall. Gwaine calls his name, growing more frantic when he doesn’t answer.

Arthur can’t think, doesn’t know what to think, as he stares at his friend, the sorcerer. 

Gwaine, who is closest to Merlin, though still not close enough to touch him without considerable effort, continues to call out Merlin’s name. Slowly, so slowly, Merlin turns his head toward Gwaine and suddenly Arthur can’t breathe.

Even glowing as bright gold as they are, Merlin’s eyes look dull. His skin has gone several shades paler, and as Arthur stares at him, blood begins to drip from his nose. Suddenly, Merlin being a sorcerer doesn’t seem to matter, because it looks like he’s dying.

Arthur’s own frantic voice joins Gwaine’s (and now Elyan’s) as he asks, “What’s wrong? Merlin, what’s happening?”

Merlin’s eyes (dull, gold, void) try to lock onto Arthur’s and he says, in a voice barely louder than a whisper and sounding like he hasn’t spoken in days, “I’m sorry. Arthur, I’m- I’m so-”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur wants so badly to go to his friend, but the chains won’t budge no matter how much he or even Percival strain, so the best he can do is talk and try to figure out  _ what the hell is happening _ . “Tell us what’s happening. Why do you look like you’re-” He can’t say it. The expression on Gwaine’s face says that he’s in the same predicament. 

“I can’t… These chains are supposed to… block a sorcerer’s magic. But I’m not- I’m not a sorcerer.” Arthur sighs in relief. “I’m a warlock. I- I need magic to- to live. I was born with it. I can’t live for- for long without it.” Arthur’s heart plummets.

“So,” Gwaine starts, then clears his throat. “These chains are killing you. We need to get them off.” 

“If we can manage to get them off, can you get us all out of here?” Arthur pointedly ignores the glare Gwaine gives him. The question had to be asked.

Merlin takes a deep breath. “They have a sorcerer. That’s- That’s how they got the better of us. I wasn’t… expecting him. But… yeah, I think I can. If… I don’t know how weak I’ll be, but I… can.” It takes far too long for Merlin to get this short amount of information out, and by the time he’s finished talking he looks like he’s just run ten miles. His breathing is harsh and labored and his pale skin glistens with sweat.

“Okay. Okay. Perce, can you break your chains? You’re the only one strong enough to even come close.” Percival nods, solemn and determined, before standing and widening his stance for balance. His muscles strain as he begins to pull. His mouth opens in a silent scream and his eyes squeeze shut and he pulls and pulls until-

He stops, limbs falling slack and chest heaving. Dust falls from where the chains meet the wall. Gwaine whispers encouragement, though who it’s for, Arthur can’t tell. Percival looks up at Arthur, defeated. His gaze slowly travels over to Merlin, whose eyes are now half-lidded. He looks even paler. 

Arthur watches as a new determination fills Percival, evident on his face. Pride swells in him as his Knight rejuvenates his efforts to pull the chains from the wall. 

They disconnect with a spectacular crash. 

Percival immediately rushes to Merlin’s side, strained muscles still jumping. At some point during Percival’s exploit, Merlin had lost consciousness. He’s limp as a ragdoll as Percival lifts his arm to get a better angle on the cuff. With Merlin’s restraints, he is going to have to break the cuffs themselves and not just the chains. 

Outside the cell, still far away but getting closer, Arthur can hear yelling. “Hurry it up, Perce. We’re about to have company.” Percival doesn’t even spare him a glance as he redoubles his efforts.

Merlin scares Arthur. The fact that he has magic should probably scare him, should probably make Arthur furious. The fact that he’d been lying to Arthur for the entirety of their friendship–because, yes, it is a friendship–should have Arthur flying into a rage. Despite all these valid points, it’s Merlin’s stillness that scares Arthur the most. Because “Merlin” and “still” have never been, should never be, in the same sentence unless it was an order. Merlin, by definition, is clumsy, ever-present, and always moving. He should never be as still as he is now.

_ Still as death _ . The thought creeps up on him unbidden and he immediately pushes it away. Merlin isn’t dying. He can’t. Arthur won’t allow it.

One of the cuffs breaks, and so does Merlin’s skin. The blood flows steadily from the damaged skin, but Arthur can’t help but be happy about it because there’s color in Merlin’s cheeks now. Not much, not nearly enough, but he is not so deathly pale as he was, and his eyes are fluttering.

The yells are getting closer. Percival moves faster, pulls harder, and the second cuff breaks with much less resistance. The result is delayed, but after a second, the color returns to Merlin’s cheeks in a rush and he shoots upright, eyes flying open and moving frantically.

Merlin’s eyes, which had begun to fade as he did, are suddenly bright and molten again, and all the chains in the room snap, falling off of each of their wrists. Merlin wipes the blood from his nose and stands, moving to the door of their cell just as the bandits reach it. His hand stretches out in front of him and all the bandits, along with the door, go flying.

“Come on,” Merlin says, turning back to look at them, eyes still glowing, blood smeared on his face.

And really, who is he to give orders? Someone, apparently. All the Knights immediately start moving toward the door. They make it down three hallways of the abandoned castle they’re in before they make it outside. 

Everything else is ridiculously easy. Every time another bandit appears, they immediately fly backward and always end up unconscious. It’s as if Merlin has done this before. 

They’re almost to the horses tied to trees when the other sorcerer finds them. 

“And where do you think you’re going, little king? I’ve got a buyer who will be very disappointed if you leave.” He flicks his hand and Merlin goes flying. 

“Merlin!” Arthur yells in a panic. He reflexively reaches for his sword, but it’s not there. Suddenly, he can’t breathe. The sorcerer has his hand cupped in front of him and he’s chanting ominously. His knights seem to be a similar position as him, all clutching their throats and struggling to breathe. His vision is starting to darken around the edges when-

“No.” 

The voice is firm and powerful, seeming to fill the entire clearing. It takes Arthur a second to realize that the voice belongs to Merlin. It takes another second for him to realize that he can breathe again. 

“No,” Merlin repeats. He stalks toward the sorcerer, clumsiness and uncertainty gone. He looks imposing and powerful, like he could kill the other sorcerer with a thought. He looks like he kind of wants to.

He looks terrifying.

“You will not harm the king of Camelot or any of his knights. Leave.”

For a second the sorcerer looks intimidated. Then, he laughs and says, “Or you’ll what, you little-”

His voice cuts out abruptly, but his lips keep moving. He keeps mouthing words, looking increasingly panicked when no sound comes out, but it doesn’t look as if he can’t breathe. 

The sorcerer panics and Merlin stands there, watching, never moving. His voice is soft but commanding when he says, “Leave.”

The sorcerer flees.

Merlin turns around to look at them, radiating power and authority, with blood smeared on his face and dripping down his hand. His eyes project confidence and magic and a little bit of fear. He looks, to Arthur, as if he were a commander of armies, a leader of people, a harnesser of power unimaginable.

Then he trips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
